The Beta's Slutty Mate

23. Bruises and Meetups

Chapter 23. Bruises and Meetups.

"Hey, dipshit!" Amelia yelled, using her foot to kick an unconscious Dylan all the while glaring at him. He literally slept through her screams and yells and she couldn't get a proper sleep because she couldn't turn and was afraid that she would accidentally dislocate her shoulder.

The clock dinged 07:00, and Dylan opened his eyes, catching the foot that was about to hit his face for the nth time. His eyes were still completely black, and the first thing that came out of his mouth was a snarl. No good morning, okay then.

"You need to learn to respect me," He snarled, and Amelia stared at him in disbelief.

"And you need to let me free from these goddamn ropes! My wrists are hurting!" She thrashed, and he looked at her in amusement.

"Good, let this be a lesson to you for leaving me for 8 months and blocking me from any type of contact," He stated, getting up and stretching his body.

"Clearly, you didn't get the hint," Amelia huffed, and he glared at her.

"Maybe I'll use silver handcuffs next time," He stated in an amused tone. "For you blocking me out and changing your number for eight months so that I don't get to contact you."

"You're kidding," Amelia gasped, and he shook his head, walking over to her. Silver is really lethal in the werewolf community as it weakens your wolf, and if overdosed, could kill it too. He raised his hand and Amelia flinched back a little, afraid that he would hit her, an action that did not go unnoticed by her mate. 

"You're afraid of me. Good. That's a good start," He said nonchalantly, tugging at the ropes so that they loosened up. She wasted no time in slipping her hands out, a strangled cry escaping her lips when she saw the blue and purple marks around them.

"Look what you did!" She screamed, showing her wrists to him but he just laughed.

"Maybe that will teach you," He said, amused before walking out the door.

Shaking her head and blinking to get rid of the tears brimming her eyelids, she got up and went to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Leaning against the door, she thought about what had happened.

Dylan was a lot of things; shy, insecure, vulnerable to verbal attacks because no one would want to fight him physically. He was a gentleman, one with manners and respect for others. He regarded everyone as equal and Amelia was sure he had never uttered a curse word in his entire life. So, what changed?

Her wrists burned bringing her back to reality. She fiddled with the contents of the cabinets, finding a first aid box which she took out and sat on the bed. She began applying an ointment, making the burning sensation more intense almost to the point that it brought tears to her eyes. Next, she put on some bandage, something which was hard for her because of the pain.

If only my mate was here, he'd whisper soothing words to me while telling me to calm down.

Thinking of the devil, he arrived in the room fixing his tie. He glanced once at the kit laid out on the bed and then to her wrapped wrists. Without any apology, he blurted out, "Where's breakfast?"

Amelia fumed at him. The nerve of this man! First, he yelled at her and forced her into his car, very rudely. Next, he compared her to an object, calling her his over and over again. He also, very tightly, tied her wrists to the bedpost for a whole night, bruising them very badly. And now, he has the audacity to ask what's for breakfast?!

"Fuck you!" Amelia screamed at him, her calm composure exploding. Being nice can go to hell. "I'm not your maid. You have fully functioning arms and legs. Go make breakfast yourself!" She spat at him, aware of the way his eyes glared at her. His facial muscles twitched, his eyes going from black to green and then settling on black. He had an aura of danger, the type of danger which you would not wish to touch unless you were suicidal.